The End - Blackbird book 7

6

Brock forced his head up and his eyes open to look down. And the sight of her added to his sensations, taking his breath away. A throbbing shiver made him tremble when she met his eyes, as her tongue ran all the way up the back of his length. He moved the phone away from his face as he suffocated a moaning grunt. However, he managed a steady, calm voice to say, "Gillian, it's Chief Cassidy."

The cold on his sensitive skin when she straightened up felt like the ultimate proof to make his case. As she took the phone from his hand, there were only two words in his mind: enough already.

The craziest scientist would've needed a dozen boards of quantic equations to explain it was physically possible. Because Gillian had barely said, "Sir, sorry I didn't—" when Brock had already kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his pants and boxer.

Cassidy replied, "It's okay, Mrs. Brockner. Now hear me out..." and Brock had pulled down her underwear, guided her foot out of it and circled her waist with his arm. As Cassidy spoke, Brock led Gillian to sit astride on top of him, his spare hand to his groin.

He looked up at her as he brought her down and lifted his hips, making his way inside of her so slowly as to spend the whole night on that single move. He gasped, watching her eyes flutter and her lips part in a quiet groan. And he could tell she felt exactly like him—the fire burning up their every nerve as she took him in deeper.

Brock struggled to keep his eyes open when he felt her warm flesh throb against him. She looked simply splendid. The glow from the foot lamp sprayed her dark hair in gold, and her stunning blue eyes stared blindly down at him, her lips parted, trembling with every shaky breath. And she felt even better than she looked. Her hips rocked up and down, back and forth, in slow circles. A delicious combination his hips matched gladly. His hand sneaked underneath her top to capture her breast. His mouth longed to join his fingers when they teased her nipple to harden, while she administrated her pleasure and his. She kept building up in no hurry, in wait for the slightest chance to get rid of Cassidy.

She didn't even try to sound normal when the man was done talking.

"Next Monday, ten a.m. I'll be there," she said, suffocating a moan when Brock brought her down and his hips thrust into her. "By the way, sir... I have to see the doctor tomorrow, to be cleared back for active service, and... you know my son's at school, and I can't drive with the sling, so... I was wondering..."

Cassidy cut her off with another loud fit of laughter. Which came in handy to muffle her panting when Brock bit her breast softly through the top, his teeth teasing her nipple under the light cotton fabric.

"Shut up, Gillian. We're grown-ups, y'know! No need to make up excuses. Just say he won't be in shape to work tomorrow after your welcome party on his return from Ohio!"

"So he can take the day off?" She so wanted to hang up on Cassidy. But she also wanted to make sure Brock didn't need to wake up early next morning. She wanted to rip her own clothes off, too. But that would push Brock's mouth away, and that was one of the things she definitely didn't want.

"Yes, he can. Fair warning: maternity leaves are without pay."

"I'll keep that in mind, sir," she muttered. "Good night."

The phone falling from Gillian's hand to sink under the couch cushions worked as a cannon shot, tearing down any delusion of self-control they still had left.

He looked up at her and she grabbed his face with both hands, soft moans escaping her lips as she moved faster. Brock's mouth seemed to devour hers as he thrust harder. The way she shivered against him spoke straight to his guts. While they kissed, he turned with her in his arms. Gillian landed with her back on the couch, Brock on top of her, and she made room for his long legs between hers. He thrust deeper and faster, husky grunts coming out of his lips, his eyes down on her as he sank his elbows at each side of her head.

Gillian wriggled beneath him, his hips pushing her past any limit. Her hands craved for his skin. Everything was a blur but him, as fire crept from her womb to set her whole body on fire. Her fingers found a way to loosen his tie and threw it away. And she was halfway down the buttons of his shirt when he ducked to kiss her. So she forgot about their clothes. His heavy breathing matched his faster thrusts, all of him inside of her, a burning spear piercing right through her. Her legs came up to lock around his waist, and she arched against his chest as she pushed him even deeper in.

Brock let out a hoarse growl as he thrust harder, lost in her helpless moans, her body tightening around him, the throbbing need burning him up inside, her smell, her skin, his hips hammering her inner thighs. Her arms and head fell back on the armrest as a weary cry escaped her lips, eyes tightly shut. She arched again under him, stiff to a painful extent. Her trembling lips, suddenly dry, were like a magnet. He dived to reach them, moving even faster.

Gillian couldn't kiss him back, paralyzed by the waves of pure fire swelling from him into her. One, and another, and another, and another. No truce, they spread up her body like hungry flames to blaze away any air left in her lungs.

Brock sank his face in the gap of her neck with a panting grunt. She managed to throw her arms around him, gasping for air. His hips still pushed her, and her muscles flinched and tightened. She could only be aware of the aching throbbing radiating from her womb. It scorched any attempt of thought. It consumed every pulse of energy left in her body. It was bewildering. Her tortured muscles begged for a break, but Brock wouldn't grant it. Now his hips mirrored her moves when she was the one on top, slow and firm thrusting circles that pulled moans and cries from her. She needed him to stop. She wanted him to never stop.